Split Souls: The Cursed Blade
by Shadowsign
Summary: The fallen prince, Loki Odinson, is in need of a weapon-and only the very best will do. Discarding his plans to take the Cube, he instead hunts for the cursed blade that killed his brother Baldur-Ragnarök. Can he take the blade and reclaim his birthright?
1. Chapter 1

**Split Soul**

_Hello all! This is my first fanfic here on the Thor archives, and it's very Loki-centric! It has no pairings currently, although I'm toying with making it Loki/Sigyn. Any input on that matter would be much appreciated._

_I haven't really read any of the comics and my knowledge of Norse Mythology is limited at best, so this is primarily movieverse and any references to events that occur in mythology will most likely be butchered. Updates will likely be sporadic, but I promise to end it eventually! By the way, for the sake of the story Aesir and Jotun age extremely slowly and once they reach movie-age they stop aging entirely. _

_**Prelude**_

"Thor, get off me!"

"Shan't!"

Baldur sighed theatrically as he lifted his tiny younger brother off his feet and onto the floor.

"What is wrong, brother?"

Thor glowered at him, with all the rage and betrayal that a toddler could feel.

"Take me with you!"

Baldur laughed easily, the musical sound filling the opulent hallway.

"Brother, you are far too young to go seeking the cursed blade with me. You and Loki must stay back to protect Asgard while I am gone."

Thor's brow furrowed in concentration, no doubt considering this point. After a moment, he nodded sulkily and retreated, calling loudly for his younger brother, telling him that they were in charge of Asgard's defences while Baldur was away. Chuckling fondly to himself, the eldest prince hefted Mjollnir and made his way to the throne room to pay his respects to the AllFather before departing. Odin glared at him as he entered, still displeased with the young prince's decision to search for the greatest of all Asgard's lost treasures. Wasting no time with greetings, the king of the Aesir instantly began his tirade.

"You are an arrogant fool! The sword was sealed for a reason, Baldur, and even you are not powerful enough to seek it out! Even I, at my darkest moments during the Jotunheim War, never considered hunting it down…And when you find it you will understand why. The Blade is powerful, to be sure, but the weapon was forged to slay the Gods themselves, and it will stop at nothing to make its original purpose, its original dream, reality!"

Baldur, angered and hurt by his father's apparent disregard of his abilities, snorted loudly.

"Hah! The way you speak of it, one would think that the thing was alive! I swear to you father, no matter what trials we face, I will bring the blade back to us-and then the Jotun will never dare trouble us again!"

Odin groaned a deep, heartfelt sound that made Baldur feel a rush of guilt.

"Very well, my boy. Know that I only allow this due to the power your mother has imbued you with-perhaps the magic of Asgard's love for you will hold true, even against that greatest of evils. I wish you luck in your endeavours."

Baldur, overjoyed by his father's consent, laughed wildly.

"I thank you, father! I promise you, your trust in me is not misplaced!"

Odin sighed affectionately, eye twinkling with amusement.

"Now run along my son, before your exuberance tires these old bones too much. Be careful."

_a few hours later_

Fully armed and flanked by a host of Aesir warriors, Baldur charged down towards the Bifrost on horseback. Heimdall, having already been informed of the circumstances surrounding Baldur's quest, simply inclined his head respectfully towards the Aesir prince and activated the Bifrost. Seconds after their departure, Frigga came rushing down, wailing loudly-the two younger princes at her side. The normally unflappable Heimdall was shocked at this bizarre turn of events and hurried over to the AllFather's side.

"Lady Frigga, what ails you?"

Frigga, turned pale as her youngest son, answered in a hoarse voice.

"My boy rides to his death. Heimdall, I have seen his fate! I beg of you, call him back!"

Heimdall stayed still, considering.

"My lady, your magic protects the royal family, rendering Baldur invulnerable, even to the Blade itself. Sure-"

Before Heimdall could finish his sentence, Frigga interrupted loudly.

"No Heimdall, the Blade is beyond even my magic. We must call him back!"

Heimdall's eyes glowed briefly as he viewed each realm, searching for the prince-to no avail.

"My lady, he is beyond my sight and my aid-he and his warriors have entered the Mausoleum of Bor. The rest is up to him now."

Frigga's heartrending wail was so loud, it seemed to the young Thor and Loki that it must have been heard in all of the nine realms…

_Deep in burning Muspelheim, Surtr stirs…._

_Below mighty Yggdrasil, Nidhogg stirs…_

Baldur and his troop were never seen again, and the Mausoleum of Bor was struck off every map in Asgard. The people mourned for years, and even the miraculous, mysterious, return of blessed Mjollnir could do little to assuage their grief…And never again was the Cursed Blade spoken of. Never again was Ragnarök almighty spoken of…Odin frowned heavily on the minstrels and bards who dared sing of it, and over time the Blade was all but forgotten, lost to the annals of time. Odin and Thor put the incident out of mind, Odin out of grief and Thor simply due to his youth. Young, clever Loki, however, remembered. And long after the incident long after even he had lost all hope of recovering the Blade and saving his lost brother, when he finally ascended the throne he had once so coveted, his desire for a weapon to surpass Mjollnir flared up once more...

_Apologies for the short chapter, 'tis but a prologue! I really hope you enjoyed it-reviews are, as ever, highly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Loki's current thoughts are not my own. I actually rather like Thor and Odin…_

_This chapter is set immediately after Loki's fall. It's a little longer, and I really would appreciate a few reviews, as I'm not certain whether any of this is any good to be honest. Thanks! : ) Also, for the sake of the story, assume that Heimdall has the ability to transport himself throughout the Realms alone. _

**Falling**

After his mind cleared and he regained the ability to feel any emotion bar sheer, unadulterated panic, Loki was forced to admit that all things considered, falling from the Bifrost had perhaps been just a tad unwise. The hasty shield he had erected around himself did manage to shield him from the debris, but it was by no means a comfortable journey-and he had a sneaking suspicion that he would not be able to divert himself from his current destination: Midgard. This was an unfortunate turn of events, as Loki had very little influence in Midgard and as a result he would be forced to search for allies in his quest to raze Jotunheim…as well as any other Realms he saw fit to annihilate. Mustering up all the remaining magic he had at his disposal, Loki was able to compel himself to cease plummeting to the ground, an act which gave him a chance to stop for a moment to gather himself.

His first thoughts, predictably, were of his idiotic brother and his equally ridiculous foster-father. For a moment he allowed himself to feel the smouldering rage, the burning betrayal, the hopeless love he still felt for them-no, not now. Quashing the emotions ruthlessly when his mind threatened to buckle underneath the overwhelming _betrayal_ he could not help but feel, Loki considered his next action. In his awareness, only two artefacts of power lay upon Midgard, and both of them posed even an immortal of his calibre incredible danger.

The first, the fabled tesseract, would undoubtedly grant him the power he needed, but it was guarded by the mortal organisation S.H.I.E.L.D, who had amassed a force that had proved itself capable of containing the powerless Thor-and although Loki retained a fraction of his magic, he suspected that the organisation would prove to be far too much trouble to deal with, especially as taking the tesseract would likely force himself to reveal his hand-something the Trickster tended to avoid.

The second option was far more dangerous, but also rather more rewarding. Although the cursed blade Ragnarök held almost unlimited power, there was a good reason why even the mighty Odin had never dared disturb the Peerless Blade after the disappearance of Baldur. The only weapon capable of breaking through the bonds of love placed around the family of the AllFather, even the almighty Odin's burning desire to see what had become of his beloved firstborn had not been enough to persuade him to return to the Mausoleum. Loki knew that it was essential to his plans to subjugate Asgard, but he could not deny the thrill of fear that ran through him whenever he thought of the blade. It had taken him years to learn that the blade was located in Midgard, but even the great libraries of Asgard were unable to offer him any further advice-no doubt the result of his cursed foster-father's meddling. Loki's interest in the Mausoleum had originally been born of a childish desire to become the glittering hero to save Baldur from the evil monsters, but as he grew older he began to understand Baldur's obsession with the sword-after all, infinite power was not to be sniffed at, and if the many legends surrounding Ragnarök were true, the weapon had the power to surpass Gungnir and Mjollnir together. Coupled with the Casket of Ancient Winters, the sheer power under Loki's command would be enough to level Yggdrasil itself…it was an intoxicating dream, and Loki was determined to ensure that it became a reality.

Snapping himself out of hazy dreams of power, the sorceror drew in as much of his energy as possible before releasing it in a burst of energy that propelled him towards Midgard, already sending out tendrils of powerful magic to search for Ragnarök. Soon he would be unstoppable! Soon he would be greater than Thor and Odin combined! Soon he would be...

Loki's body and mind froze suddenly, before disappearing in a wave of wild power that knocked him unconscious before he could finish his trail of thought-it seemed that the Mausoleum had found him before he had found it...

**Muspelheim **

The Fire Giants were infamous for being a stoic lot, but nothing could be further from the truth today. Packs of the great creatures ran frantically about, either trying to escape the impending calamity that would doubtlessly fall upon them, or simply trying to get out of the Seal before their superiors discovered what had just happened. However, their efforts were for naught. As they approached each exit, the doors would slam shut and become surrounded by an unnatural flame capable of burning even the supposedly fireproof Fire Giants. The sounds of screaming in the passageways behind them grew ever louder…and then stopped, just as suddenly as they had begun. A low, menacing laugh echoed through the large antechamber, and more than a few of the Fire Giants began to pray to Yggdrasil Herself for mercy.

When he finally manifested among them, it took them a while to realise. They only really began to get the message when the screaming started again, this time rather closer. A flash of blinding light stunned the survivors briefly, and when it faded all they could see were the other survivors cowering against the doorways, backing away from the lone giant standing amongst the ashes of their fellows. The giant seemed almost identical to the others, except for his even greater height and his eyes, which were as black as midnight and seemed to be dotted with myriad white stars. He laughed again, and then strode purposefully towards one of the cowering giants. When he finally spoke, it was in a laughing voice that seemed wholly unsuited to his menacing appearance and cruel smirk.

"Tell me, friend, why my brother mighty Nidhogg stirs. I feel his wrath in my bones, calling me to vengeance. I feel his power filling my veins, just as my power now fills his. I feel his freedom, as clearly as I feel my own. Tell me, friend, why we are free once more…Is the twilight of the Gods upon us?"

The unfortunate giant who he addressed gulped audibly.

"I…I do not know, Lord Surtr."

Surtr frowned, and as his concentration lapsed the façade of a Fire Giant flickered and became transparent. Standing in the centre of the room, cocooned within the transparent illusion, stood a tall, charred husk of a man with red fire in his hands, clad in an intricate armor that seemed to be forged of molten rock. A terrible smile stretched the hellish apparition's lips, and the tiny stars in his otherwise impenetrable eyes flared intensely as he scanned the room, observing the reactions of the Fire Giants. The sight had served only to terrify his former captors even further-and this seemed to please the burning god. With a snap of his fingers the illusion faded entirely, and the true form of Surtr burned with an intensity that was incredibly painful to behold. Kneeling before the fire giant, Surtr cupped the giant's face in his hands and roughly twisted, forcing the struggling giant to look him in the eyes, which seemed to glow with a terrifying eeriness.

"You…do not know? Then you are no use to me."

With another burst of light, the unfortunate giant was reduced to ashes. The sight seemed to enrage another of the survivors, who hefted a mighty broadsword and charged towards Surtr, who regarded him scornfully before suddenly disappearing. Crashing to a halt, the giant looked about confusedly before being smashed to the ground by an invisible force. Chuckling malevolently, Surtr rematerialized above the giant, a burning scythe gripped in both hands. His voice, when it came, was a malevolent purr.

"Now why, in the name of Surtr"-a malevolent chuckle-", would you go and do a silly thing like that?"

The giant struggled to his feet, only to be kicked back down by Surtr, who was now regarding him dispassionately.

"You just killed my brother, abomination!"

Surtr mock-gasped, feigning great hurt.

"Such cruel words, giant. Perhaps I should teach you a little…humility."

Surtr adjusted his grip on the scythe so that he held the mighty weapon in a single hand, pointing the other hand at his felled opponent. His index finger sketched a pattern in the air, leaving a flaming trail behind it until his finger stopped moving and the flaming symbol remained hanging in mid-air. With a single gesture, the symbol flew towards the giant and slowly burned itself into the giant's forehead, setting him alight. The sound of screaming filled the air as Surtr laughed malevolently.

"Are you not the abomination now, giant?"

When the flames, and the screaming, died out, the giant was gone and in his place stood a burning husk with eyes that burned like the sun. The beast roared bestially and charged at his former comrades, slavering like the wild animal that he had become. Watching as the monster tore apart his fellows, Surtr spoke again, his voice now deadly serious.

"This is just the beginning. I will carve my vengeance into every bough of Yggdrasil herself. I will ascend the World Tree as she burns, and I will laugh in the face of Odin as I throw him from the Bifrost itself! I am Surtr released, and my flames shall never again be quenched. I am-"

Surtr's soliloquy was interrupted suddenly when a wave of shining light ripped through one of the barricaded doors, catching Surtr on the chest and throwing him against a wall. The fallen god roared with anger as he righted himself and raised his scythe, preparing for battle.

"Show yourself, AllFather! I must confess, I did not expect for you to face me yourself-perhaps you appreciate just what my release means for your pathetic Realm?"

Stepping majestically through the still-smoking doorway, Heimdall regarded Surtr briefly before raising his golden blade. The abomination, roaring wildly, charged towards the Gatekeeper only to be swiftly torn apart by a rapid flurry of blows. Heimdall, completely unharmed, was silent for a few seconds before finally answering Surtr.

"The AllFather and his sons are…indisposed. It falls to me to restrain you once more, Surtr."

Surtr shrugged.

"Then it shall be you who pays first for Asgard's folly."

With those words, Surtr disappeared, reappearing seconds later at Heimdall's side. Surtr brought his scythe crashing down towards Heimdall, who blocked the strike with his greatsword and slashed the flaming demon. Although the strike was a glancing one, the pain further infuriated Surtr, who disappeared again, appearing against the wall furthest from Heimdall. Waving a sparking hand over the cut, Surtr quickly resealed the wound before returning to the fray. Although Surtr fought with impossible speed and a terrifying ferocity, his long incarceration without magic had badly weakened him and as a result the once unstoppable force found himself being pushed back rapidly by Heimdall's onslaught. Snarling viciously, Surtr retreated slowly until he was back against the wall.

"I won't forget this, Gatekeeper. When my powers reach their apex once more, I shall scatter your ashes in the wind."

Shaking with impotent fury, the flaming one disappeared in a burst of flame, leaving Heimdall standing alone in the ruined prison. After a few minutes, the Gatekeeper turned and disappeared in a flash of golden light. Time to check on Nidhogg...

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter-reviews appreciated! :D**

**Next time, do you guys want me to focus on Loki, the cursed blade and the Mausoleum of Bor or Nidhogg, Surtr and Heimdall? Either way, some Odin and Thor coming up.  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Split Soul**

_Sorry for the rather late update, hopefully anyone actually reading this will enjoy this one. I really would appreciate a couple of reviews, just so I know whether people are interested in this._

**Thor-Asgard**

The normally raucous city was quiet now, with all silent in mourning for the lost…and in preparation for war. With Loki's betrayal and subsequent death, coupled with the startling news concerning the release of Surtr, the mighty city had been shaken, and none moreso than the inhabitants of Odin's castle. The Lady Frigga had withdrawn to her chamber, and had not left them for many a week. All save Odin and Thor were barred from visiting the grieving mother, but they too had withdrawn.

Thor, heartbroken and filled with regret, was rarely seen even by his stalwart companions Sif and the Warriors Three, while Odin had begun to delegate many responsibilities to his subordinates while he prepared himself for the inevitable battle with Surtr. With Heimdall scouring the Nine Realms for the wily Lord of Flames and the missing Casket of Endless Winters, the city had never been more vulnerable-or more determined. Replacing hearty carousing and carefree adventures with grim blades and the drums of war, the soldiers of Asgard were fully prepared for the inevitable battle with Surtr and the vast army of malcontents and demons he had rapidly amassed.

With the Bifrost shattered, the forces of Odin were forced to wait in Asgard until either the Casket, which was probably lying beside Loki's corpse, or the Shattered Star were recovered-the only two artefacts capable of transporting large armies between worlds. While Odin was capable of world-walking alone, he instead chose to send Heimdall out through the lands while he attempted to discover in Asgard's mighty libraries the location of the last shard of the Star. The Shattered Star was an ancient crystal, one with many legends surrounding it. While tales of it's incredible power and origin varied from storyteller to storyteller, all agreed on a few key points: The Star gave its wielder immense magical strength, coupled with near invulnerability and the power to heal any wound. While normally such tales would be dismissed as mere conjecture and lies, a piece of the Star had been recovered by Thor, Loki and the Warriors when travelling in the deepest caves of Svartalfheim. The strange crystalline shard had been examined by both Odin and Loki, and both had agreed that the shard indeed possessed incredible powers.

However, neither of them had been able to unleash the power locked within, and they were forced to consult Frigga, who was famed for her vast knowledge upon such matters. She had informed them that the legends said that only once the three shards were united would the power of the Star be unleashed, and since then many adventurers had gone on countless quests to recover the other two shards-only to discover that one had been recovered by the recently-deceased Laufey, King of the Jotuns. The third shard had disappeared altogether, with not even a whisper of it surfacing. After Laufey's death, the second shard had been recovered from his corpse-but still no sign of the third. Fortunately for the Asgardians, Heimdall had reported that Surtr was no closer to discovering an artefact with which to invade Asgard than they were-although if Nidhogg was freed, that would no longer be an issue for him.

Thor had been spending increasing amounts of time alone since the shattering of the Bifrost, and the beloved prince's popularity was at an all-time low, with many of the more bloodthirsty Asgardians muttering that they should have let Jotunheim perish. He rarely attended the training grounds, and while he was stronger than ever, his mind was so troubled that he was far less effective a fighter than he had once been. Sif had expressed concern for his wellbeing on more than one occasion, but he always shrugged off her querying-better to suffer in silence than to drag his friends down with him. As he pored over the plans to improve Asgard's defences, he slowly became aware of a presence, watching him silently. The prickling of the hairs on his back alerted him to the fact that a spell was in effect, and for a moment, he let himself think that Loki was alive, that he had returned with the Casket to make amends-but that moment ended, and Thor walled himself from such feeble thoughts. Summoning Mjjolnir to his side with a thought, he straightened from his hunched position and boomed out a warning.

"Show yourself, mage!"

There was no response for a few long seconds, and just when Thor was about to sheepishly sit back down, the air rippled in front of him and coalesced into the figure of a thin, auburn-haired girl with piercing green-grey eyes. The girl was scrawny for an Asgardian, but her ramrod-straight posture, guarded eyes and the crackling aura of magic surrounding her reminded Thor a little of Loki. The unexpected though sent another jolt of sorrow through him, and as a result he was a little harsher with the frightened girl than he ordinarily would have been.

"What in the name of Odin are you doing in my room, witch?"

He raised Mjjolnir threateningly, hoping to frighten an answer out of her. She remained silent for a few moments, before drawing a deep breath and speaking in a voice hoarse with disuse.

"I wish to speak with you, Thor Odinson. My name is Sigyn Freyasdottir, and I believe that I know where to find the last piece of the Shattered Star."

Thor regarded the girl mistrustfully, only now realising the fact that she was indeed a noble of Odin's court. However, he was all too aware of the fact that she had been covertly watching him before he had forced her to reveal herself. Raising a hand courteously to her, he spoke quietly, eyes never leaving the sparkling green light she held in her hand.

"If you wish to converse with me, Lady Sigyn, why did you feel the need for subterfuge?"

Sigyn blushed.

"I…I wanted to see if I could get past your defences."

Thor started, and then decided to regard the girl a little more favourably-after all, anyone capable of bypassing the guards of Asgard after the recent tightening of security must be an adventurer after his own heart. He laughed heartily, glad of the opportunity to distract himself, to _do _something after far too long brooding, cooped up in his own rooms. Gesturing wildly towards the girl, who seemed a little confused by his sudden change in attitude, the mercurial prince strode towards the door-much to Sigyn's surprise.

"Where are we going?"

Thor grinned.

"To the AllFather, Lady Sigyn. If you have truly located the Shattered Star's last shard, he will want to know of it."

Sigyn audibly gulped, before mustering her willpower and nodding determinedly.

"Let us be off then, Prince Thor."

**Surtr-Yggdrasil's Roots**

Surtr, shrouded in shadow, crept steadily towards the contingent of Asgardian warriors guarding the chained Nidhogg. They were some of Asgard's finest, and Surtr knew that they would prove a dangerous foe-unless he got to them before they became aware of his presence. The Roots of Yggdrasil were a grey, dreary land, and the many guards charged with the uneventful mission of protecting Nidhogg's prison beneath the earth had no doubt leapt at the chance to prove themselves capable of defeating and capturing the brother of Nidhogg.

As Surtr regarded the troops, he became aware of a powerful force beneath the Earth-no doubt his brother straining against the chains that bound him. The thought of his brother encouraged him to act boldly, and without thinking Surtr conjured a red flame in the palm of his hand, before unleashing it in the form of a wave of fire that immolated the row of troops closest to him.

Unlike the fire giants that had once imprisoned him, however, the Asgardians showed no trace of fear-they had clearly been expecting him. He prepared another blast of fire, only to be quenched by an icy wind that whipped about him, slowly solidifying until he was almost entirely encased in ice. Snarling, Surtr attempted to free himself with a burst of fire, only to discover that the strange ice seemed to be dampening his magical power. The four Asgardian mages who had contained him were visibly shaking with effort, and Surtr bared his teeth triumphantly-the moment their strength failed, he would be free. Minutes passed, with the warriors of Asgard making no move to detain him or harm him any further-_cowards_-while their magical brethren struggled to keep him powerless. Surtr laughed derisively at the fools, deciding to play with the cowards before their inevitable deaths.

"Tell me, mages, why do you fight me? I am Surtr, Lord of Flames, and you are nothing before me. When I am freed, you will pay dearly for this-unless you set me free now. If you do this, and you give me the key to my brother's chains, I will show mercy on you. If you do not, I will incinerate you."

The youngest of the mages swallowed, but showed no other sign of a weakening resolve. Surtr regarded him malevolently, burning eyes fixed upon the unfortunate.

"Even if you do not release me, my soldiers will."

He was bluffing-without the Casket or Nidhogg by his side; he had not the power to transport armies through the Realms. However, there was no way these fools could know that-cut off from Asgard, the only information the jailors of Nidhogg had was that brought to them by Heimdall.

Minutes passed, each seeming a century to both the struggling mages and the slowly freezing Surtr. For a second, Surtr entertained the horrifying possibility that he could actually lose his battle-and then all hell broke loose. With a guttural cry and a roar of flame, Nidhogg broke free. Bursting from below the ground, covered in flame, the ancient dragon annihilated wave upon wave of the shocked Asgardians. With a rumbling laugh, Nidhogg burned the four mages to ashes and freed Surtr with a smash of his tail against the ice encasing Surtr's body. The two brothers regarded each other wordlessly for a few moments, neither of them able to express the fierce joy that filled them at this reunion. Surtr recovered himself first, and smirked.

"You took your time, beast."

Nidhogg rumbled deep laughter, the many scars on his great body healing rapidly even as they spoke.

"I was about to say the same to you, corpse."

Surtr chuckled fondly, before his face hardened into a battle-ready grimace. The moment was over, and the brothers became warmongers once more.

"Our vengeance is at hand, brother. Ragnarök stirs in the Mausoleum, the second Prince of Asgard is dead and the Bifrost has been shattered. You and I alone possess the power to transport our legions throughout the Realms, and we shall use it to bring about the end of the Gods."

Nidhogg, who had stiffened at the mention of Ragnarök, let out a warning hiss.

"Who has the Blade called, brother? They will be a threat to us, a grave threat indeed."

Surtr shrugged, as much at a loss as his brother.

"I do not know. The Mausoleum has cloaked itself in darkness, no doubt subjecting he who seeks the Blade to unimaginable torment."

The two brothers shuddered, united in pity for the poor soul attempting to prove himself worthy of Ragnarök…

**Loki-The Mausoleum of Bor **

Loki sighed as he walked into the Mausoleum's fifth Trial Hall. The first trial had been to slay a vast, troll-like creature-it would have been rather more difficult if the beast had not been already dead. The second had been to recover an invisible crystal hidden inside the hallway. Fortunately, someone in the Mausoleum-perhaps another seeker of the blade- had provided a map detailing just where the crystal was hidden. The third trial room had been empty, the challenge evidently being to muster up the energy to walk across the room to the next onerous trial. The fourth room had contained a single, half-dead, Draugr who was quickly dispatched by a single dagger throw. Loki was starting to worry-was this some kind of bizarre joke? The only other possibility was that some other intrepid treasure-hunter had already cleared each room for him before taking the Blade for himself-but Loki could still feel the strange, terrible power of the Blade drawing him forwards, so it was more likely that said adventurer had perished here, in the final trial.

At first, the fifth room seemed to be as empty as the third, but Loki's magic warned him of a trick-all was not as it seemed. Daggers and magic at the ready, he crept through the room, prepared for a battle. So preoccupied was he with searching his surroundings for foes, he almost fell through the first pit. If it hadn't been for his hasty teleport before he hit the ground, he would have been impaled. Cursing himself for his mistake, the prince hurried on-but this time using his magic to search for the hidden pits, rather than any hidden ambushers. Every time he passed a pit, he was aware of the powerful stench of decomposition-evidently this room had claimed the lives of many an unwary adventurer. As he finally reached the end of the hallway, he blasted open the doorway triumphantly, only to freeze as he absorbed the sight of Bor's Tomb.

The vast room was magnificent, made entirely out of a crystalline substance that sparkled and pulsed with an ethereal light. Strange sculptures rose from the ground, depicting scenes of battle from Bor's youth. Loki walked through the room like one in a dream, entranced and horrified by the scene at the centre of the room-for there, seated upon a great throne of crystal, was Baldur.

_Well, that's all for now! Hope you enjoyed it, reviews are as appreciated as ever! The next will be coming sometime this month, whenever I get a free moment. _


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